


Baxter Bernard RIP

by clgfanfic



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to "Baxter and Boz"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baxter Bernard RIP

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Anything Goes #4 and later in Boss and Bodacious #2 under the pen name Sioned Dannan.
> 
> With a guest appearance from the USA series Counterstrike.

It was another warm, late-spring day in Southern California, the sun shining across King Harbor, tourists and regulars just arriving for a long day at the beach.  A light breeze made it comfortable to wear an extra layer and promised to blow the usual pollution inland.  Seagulls screeched, begging for breakfast treats, and the tourists submitted to their demands.

The tide was low, the boats at Slip 7 rocking gently with the deep movements of the Pacific.  Inside, the members of the Riptide Detective Agency sat at their small galley table, finishing a breakfast of pancakes, bacon and coffee.  They ate in relative silence, the gaps in conversation comfortable from long association. 

First to finish, Cody slid off the bench seat and carried his plate, silverware and coffee cup to the sink, running the water to rinse them off, then plugged the drain and added dish soap.  Nick joined him a moment later, adding his dishes to the pile and pulling the dishtowel off the stove handle, preparing to dry. 

"So, what's the game plan today?" the dark-haired man asked.

Cody scrubbed a plate, rinsed it and handed it to Nick before he said, "I guess we better go over the Wilberson case, figure out how we're going to--"

"Hello the _Riptide_!"

All three detectives turned as someone pounded down the stairs.  "Good morning, Dooley," Murray said as the young man slid in across from him on the bench seat and reached for the last piece of bacon sitting on the plate.

"What's up?" the young man asked, munching happily.

"Nothing," Nick said, drying the next plate.  "What do you need, Dooley?"

"Need?  Me?"

"Yes, you," Cody replied sternly, accepting Murray's now empty dishes. 

"I don't need anything," the young man replied, the mock-hurt expression not affecting the detectives in the slightest.  "Some guy just asked me to deliver this."  He fished into a back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small envelope and handing it over to Murray.

"What is it?" Nick asked, finishing the drying and returning the towel to the stove handle before stepping across to stand next to the computer expert.

"Well. . ." Murray said, his head tracking back and forth as he quickly read.  ". . . It appears that we've been invited to speak at a private detective's conference being held right here in Los Angeles!"

"What?" Cody asked, glancing over his shoulder as he scrubbed the sink.

"Let me see that," Nick said, snatching the invitation out of Murray's hands.  He read, Cody stepping over to do the same over his shoulder.

"Guests of honor?" they chorused skeptically.

"Wow, this is just _boss_ ," Murray enthused.  "I mean to be asked to be the main speakers--"

"Why?" Nick demanded.  "Why us?"

"Why not?" Cody asked defensively, shooting his partner an annoyed glance.  "After all, we've broken some pretty important cases--"

"Oh, come on," Nick argued.

Murray nodded thoughtfully, cupping his chin between thumb and forefinger.  "That's it, Cody.  I'm sure.  We've had some truly boss and bodacious cases over the years."

"Well, wow is right," Dooley said, bouncing up.  "I gotta go.  Good luck at your convention."

"It's a conference, Dooley," Murray corrected. 

"Whatever," the young man said, bounding up the steps to the salon.  "Catch ya later!"

Nick sat back down.  "We're not really going to do this, are we?"

"Of course we are," Murray told him.  "This is a huge honor, Nick.  Think of all the people who'd be disappointed if we didn't go!"

"Who?  Who's going to be disappointed, Murray?" Nick demanded.  "I'm tellin' you, this is bogus."

"Oh, come on, Nick.  Maybe somebody's been reading the papers," Cody argued.  "We've been in there a few times, you know."

Nick shook his head, but gestured his surrender.

"Boy, this _is_ exciting," Murray said, giggling softly.  "It'll be great," he assured the recalcitrant man.  "We'll wear suits, and--"

"Suits?" Nick interrupted.

"Oh, come on, Nick," Cody cajoled.  "Get with the program.  This would be a golden opportunity for the agency."

"Yeah," Nick replied, "I'll just bet."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The three detectives stepped into the lobby of the posh Universal City hotel.  Cody and Murray, each wearing suits, looked more comfortable than Nick, who refused to exchange his jeans and purple t-shirt for something fancier.

"Hey," Cody said, slapping the back of his hand against Nick's shoulder, "look."  He nodded.

Nick followed Cody's line of sight and found himself standing a little straighter before he thought about it.  The young woman walking toward them was stunning.  He guessed that she was Asian and Hispanic, but regardless of her actual parentage, she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.  Tall, slender, with long black hair, light brown-green eyes, fine features, full lips.  She moved like a dancer.  He'd frowned slightly.  Something about the woman struck him as familiar, but he knew he'd never met her before.

She stopped when she reached them.  "Misters Allen, Bozinsky and Ryder?"

They nodded.

"If you'd please come with me?"  She turned and started off, the three detectives stepping off as one to follow her. 

When they reached the open elevator, Nick and Cody hesitated, but Murray stepped straight in, standing next to the woman.  She smiled pleasantly at him.  The partners stepped inside, both wearing sour looks.

She pressed the button for the seventh floor and they rode up uninterrupted and in silence.  Stepping out of the elevator, she led them down a thickly carpeted hallway to a conference room that was bigger then most studio apartments. 

"Please, make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen," she instructed, gesturing to a small buffet, and several padded leather chairs evenly spaced around an oval cherrywood table.  At the far end of the table sat a state-of-the-art television and VCR unit.  She moved to the equipment while the threesome filled small plates with fresh fruit and several items, which they couldn't identify, but which smelled heavenly.  They poured themselves coffee from a silver urn and took seats. 

When they were settled, she turned the television on.  "Gentlemen, if you--"

"Uh, where's the conference?" Nick asked.

She smiled indulgently.  "There is no conference, I'm afraid."

"See, I told you," Nick said, giving his partners a smug I-told-you-so look.

"Please, if you would just watch this video, it will explain everything."

"But--" Cody started.

"Of course we will," Murray interrupted, smiling cooperatively.

"Thank you," she said, favoring him with a half-shy, half-seductive smile, then pressing play. 

The threesome watched her leave until a voice stated almost playfully, "Well, I guess I'm finally dead."

The three detectives swung around and stared at the grinning face of Baxter Bernard on the television.

"Bax?" Murray asked softly, leaning forward in his seat, his food forgotten.

"I'm sorry I can't be there in person, guys, but being dead makes that a little difficult. . ."  The grinning face grew serious, and Baxter glanced down, slightly embarrassed.  "But I know that's not why you're here.  I'm sorry I had to pull that little conference ruse on you boys, but I wanted to make sure you'd come. . ." 

"Yeah, he hit us right in the ego," Nick said under his breath.

"Where we're vulnerable," Cody added softly.

"Shhh," Murray shushed them, reaching for his linen napkin as his eyes began to fill.

Baxter smiled out at them, his old self again.  "I hope you got some of the food.  It's really good, I promise.  And coffee?  Did you get coffee?  Good, good . . . Okay.  Well, then, let's get down to business. . ."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Nick said quietly.

"I'm dead," Baxter repeated, then chuckled.  "It feels funny to say that, but if you're watching this, then it's true.  And I don't have any family, so I sat down and thought about what would be best for Baxter Industries after I was gone.  I really don't want to break up the company, boys, I mean, Baxter Industries does a lot of good in the world. . ."

"Yes, it does," Murray told the screen.

"But, more than that, I can't let what happened with the Baxtercraft happen again."  The industrialist stopped, staring out at the detectives, his expression serious.  "That's where you three come in."

"See?" Nick told them, leaning back.  "Here it comes."

"Murray . . . Cody . . . Nick . . . I want you three to become part of Baxter Industries."

Even Nick leaned forward as Bax leaned back in his huge leather chair.  He rested his feet -- clad in purple high-top Converse tennies -- on his desk.  "Boz, I want you to head up Baxter Industries' Research and Development unit.  Nick, Cody, I'd really appreciate it if you two would head up security for BI.  And before you turn me down, you won't be alone.  Diane'll be there, too.  She'll be available as your private pilot, if you need her.  But I'm also asking her to head up the Personnel Department.     I trust her judgement when it comes to people.  Not that I don't trust yours, too," he added quickly.  "But she's more comfortable in the people business on a full-time basis than I think you three would be."

Bax pulled his feet off the desk and scooted the chair closer to his desk, leaning forward to get closer to the camera.  "I know this is a lot to ask, believe me.  If I could've I would've stayed in King Harbor, being a bum. . ."  Bax grinned again and shook his head.  "That was the life. . ." 

The billionaire industrialist blinked and grew serious again.  "I truly wish I didn't have to ask this of you, boys, but I do.  I can't take the chance of anything like the Baxtercraft debacle happening again.  And I know you won't let it.  And, like I said, you won't be alone.  I have a friend, another Industrialist, Alexander Addington, who's a lot like me, not that he'd be a bum or anything, but he cares about people, about what's right and wrong.  I'm giving him a forty-seven percent control of Baxter Industries, under the condition that he accepts the four of you in the positions I've picked.  And I'm giving each of you each sixteen percent control.  The last five percent will be held by several environmental organizations. . . . So, what do you think?  The four of you will have a controlling interest in BI, and so will Alexander.  He's a good man.  I think you'll find him easy to work with."

Baxter pushed back, grinning again.  "So, there you are.  I know it's going to take you a while to think about this.  How does three days sound?  That's when my funeral will be held.  Oh, and all of this is hush-hush, so keep it under your hats, okay?  My lawyer, Dean Taylor, will be at the funeral, Diane, too.  Let them know what you decide. Oh, and if you decide you don't want to work for Baxter Industries, I'll understand.  Really.  But I hope you do.  I trust you boys." 

Baxter took a deep breath and sighed, staring out at them.  "So, I guess that's it. I miss you guys . . . I hope you'll do this for me.  Consider it a personal favor.  Guess I'll be seeing you one day," he finished, then added quickly, "but not for a long, long time!"

The video shifted to snow.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The drive back to the _Riptide_ was quiet, each man keeping his own counsel.  When they reached the boat, they split off, singly searching out their own spaces in which to think.

Murray holed-up in his room, closing the door behind him.  The Roboz's head swiveled, tracking his creator as Murray paced in the small space. 

"What should I do, Roboz?" he asked as he passed the orange robot.  "This is the opportunity of a lifetime . . . It's everything I've always wanted to do . . . I could work on artificial intelligence projects . . . I'd have the support of one of the biggest corporations in the United States-- In the world. . . . I'd be able to interface with other researchers . . . and the computers . . . And Bax--"  He stopped and dropped into his chair.

"Ah, Bax, this isn't how I wanted this to happen.  You were a good friend."  He looked at the Roboz.  "You should honor your friends, Roboz.  You should do what they want when it's a-a-a last wish."

The large fly-eyes remained impassive.

"Well, you should."  He stood and picked up the pacing again.  "It's a dream come true.  How can I say no?  But if Nick and Cody don't want to . . . I don't want to leave them . . . I tried that once, and I nearly ended up in Siberia!  They're my best friends . . . But they have to know what this could mean . . . No more worrying about the bills . . . And we'd still be doing things to help people . . . It's a good thing, Roboz.  Doing what Baxter wants is a good thing. . ."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

 

Cody sat alone in the salon, thinking.  After several minutes he picked up the phone and dialed.  "Hi, mom? . . . Hi! . . . No, no, everything's fine.  I just wanted to talk to you a minute.  Listen, something's come up. . ."  He explained the situation to her, then listened as she replied.

"What do I want?" Cody echoed her final question.  "I don't know, Mom.  I really don't.  But you're right, this _is_ the security I was looking for when I went for the Tricor deal.  I mean, I'm not a kid anymore.  Hell, I'm over forty.  I can't help thinking about retirement, security. . . . No, I don't want to give up the business.  I love what we do here.  I--"  He listened as his mother effortlessly wove the two lives together. 

"Okay, I see what you're saying," Cody agreed.  "We could still do some casework, and working for Baxter Industries would be important-- . . . A new boat?  I don't think so," he smiled.  "Well, maybe, but not right away. . . . Look, I don't want to

keep you, uh, I have to go do some thinking, but thanks, Mom.  Really. . . . Yeah, I love you, too."

Cody hung up, then grabbed his jacket and headed out for a walk on the beach.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Nick sat in the door hatch of the _Mimi_ , watching the seagulls hang on the brisk breeze blowing off the Pacific.  Locals and tourists alike tossed the birds French fries, popcorn and pieces of bread, laughing as the gulls caught the treats and gobbled them down in mid-air. 

He knew what Cody and the Boz would decide, and he knew why, but he wasn't sure he could go along with them.  He just wasn't a corporation kind of a guy.  He couldn't be happy sitting at a desk, dealing with issues like corporate espionage and fraud.  He couldn't even be happy test flying state of the art choppers like the Baxtercraft.  He wanted -- needed -- to live a simpler life, the kind of life they'd managed to build on the _Riptide_.  If they took Baxter up on his offer it would mean the end of everything he'd come to know and love.

Not that there wouldn't be perks.  The money hidden in the offer was tempting.  He could really fix up the _Mimi_.  Cody could fix up the _Riptide_ and the _Ebbtide_.  And Murray could do all the experiments he wanted to on the Roboz.

But they wouldn't be the same.  They wouldn't be the Riptide Detective Agency.  They wouldn't be the same Nick, Cody and Murray they were right now.  And he wasn't sure he'd like the new men they'd become.

It meant more responsibility, and Nick had to stop and wonder if he wasn't afraid of responsibility.  He was a year away from forty and where was he?  He knew Cody would be attracted by the security Baxter's offer embodied.  And down deep, so was he.

But until he could figure out exactly what the trade-off was, he wasn't sure he could go along.

 

* ~ * ~ *  ~ *  ~ *  ~  *  ~ *  ~ *

 

"I did some research last night," Murray said as he stepped into the salon the next morning and sat down at the table, his cup of coffee joining the two already there.  "Baxter Industries is worth several billion dollars, guys."

"Several _billion_?" Cody echoed, his voice squeaking.

Murray nodded.  "It's an international, highly diversified company.  The major areas are electronics, helicopters and industrial surfaces."

"Industrial surfaces?" Nick asked.

Murray smiled indulgently and explained, "Things like teflon that coat industrial parts, machine gears, that kind of stuff."

"Oh," both detectives chorused.

"Does that mean we'd have to move if we take these jobs?" Cody asked.

An excited smile played across Murray's lips.  "No, no.  The corporate headquarters is located right here in Los Angeles, as well as Baxter Labs, the R-and-D facility."

"That's great," Cody said, smiling.

"I think so," Murray replied, watching Nick, who silently sipped his coffee.   "I mean, we can stay right here on the _Riptide_."

"Exactly," Cody agreed.  "We can even keep the agency.  With a company the size of Baxter Industries, we'd have a bunch of subordinates who could--"

"You're missing the point, Cody," Nick interrupted.

"What do you mean?" the blond asked.

"I mean, that's exactly what Baxter's trying to avoid.  If we go in there and let someone else do the job, then we're not watching out for the company.  We're not making sure that geeks like the last pair don't get out of hand."

Murray stared at the tabletop as he said, "Nick's right.  If we decide to take the jobs, it's a full-time commitment.  But we could still live here.  We don't--"

"Murray, what're you going to do when you get your own space there at Baxter Labs, huh?" Nick asked.

"Uh, well, I guess I'll start by trying to--"

"You're gonna move in," Nick interrupted.  "You're going to move all your stuff over there and add lots of great things to it, and then you'll take the Roboz over so you can work on your artificial intelligence, and before you know it, you'll be camped-out there full-time."

Murray considered the scenario thoughtfully, then nodded.  "I guess so, but Nick, I'll still think of the _Riptide_ as my home."

Nick nodded, his lips pressing together.  "Yeah, I know.  For a while, but it won't be.  Not any more."

"Come on, Nick," Cody argued.  "If we're living here--"

"You think so?"

"Yeah," Cody said.  "I do."

"You're not going to take that first, what?  Three-hundred, five-hundred, seven-hundred thousand dollar check and go looking for something a little nicer?"

"What?" Cody said, his eyes narrowing.  "And I suppose you're telling me you wouldn't use some of that money to fix up that flying junk-heap?"

"I didn't say that," Nick replied softly, pointing at the blond.  "I didn't say that.  All I'm saying is, this won't be home anymore because we won't be the same people if we take these jobs.  It's the Tricor thing all over again."

"It is not," Cody defended.  "At Tricor we had to give up everything.  With Baxter Industries we'll be in charge.  If we don't want to wear a suit and tie, we don't have to, and nobody's going to look over our shoulders."

Murray nodded.  "Cody's got a point there, Nick.  It's really not the same.  We'll be doing the same things are we are now, but with a whole company behind us."

" _You'll_ be doing the same thing, Murray, but not me," Nick said.  "You think we'll be helping people like Martin Stonewall, or Kimba, or anyone else we've done a job for? Cody and I are gonna be stuck in an office someplace, making sure nobody's walking out with prototypes or computer thingies."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing, Nick." 

"Yeah, Cody, it is.  It is when I want to help _people_ , not companies."

"Yeah, but we're not getting any younger, my friend."

Nick nodded.  "I know."

Seeing an opening, Cody continued.  "This might be our last chance to build up a little something to retire on.  I don't know about you, but I can't see myself doing what I'm doing now ten years from now."

Nick shrugged and stood.  He carried his cup over the coffeepot and stood, deciding he didn't want to add another cup on top of his already churning stomach.

"Nick, this is an opportunity for us to do something worthwhile _and_ watch out for ourselves."

Setting the still empty cup down, Nick turned.  "I just don't know if I can do it, okay?"

"But the funeral--"

"I know when the funeral is, Murray." 

"Think you'll know by then?" Cody asked quietly.

Nick nodded, then turned and headed up the stairs to the wheelhouse door.  Cody and Murray listened to him leave.

"He'll come around," the computer wizard reassured his friend.

"I hope so," Cody said.  "Because I don't think I can say no."  He stood. 

"Where're you going?"

"To talk to Nick," Cody said.

"Good luck."

"Thanks; I think I might need it."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

 

Cody didn't find his wayward friend until the following morning, when he discovered him sitting under the _Mimi_ , staring out at the surf as it broke along the beach.  The sand was slowly filling up with sunbathers, kids and surfers.

Cody walked up and sat in the open hatch.  "We were getting worried."

"Sorry," Nick said, tossing a small pebble toward the sand.  "I just needed some time to think."

"Come to any conclusions?"

"No."

Cody sighed quietly.  _Not a good sign._  

"I have a question, though."

"What?" Cody asked.

"If we take these jobs, who're we going to be a year from now?"

The blond sat in silence, trying to come up with a good answer.  He settled on an honest one.  "I don't know.  Us."

"Not who we are now."

"Nick, even if we _don't_ do this, we're not going to be the same people we are now a year from now."

"Maybe, but we'll be a lot more different if we go corporate."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing, Nick." 

Cody hopped down and Nick stood.

"Maybe not."  The dark-haired detective climbed out from under the helicopter and joined Cody in the open hatch.  "To tell you the truth, I'm scared."

Cody thought for a moment before he said, "Me, too."

"Oh?" Nick challenged, glancing at his friend for a brief moment before looking away again.

"Yeah," Cody said softly, his voice tight.  "I'm afraid if we don't take this job we'll end up with . . . nothing."

"Cody--"

"No, listen, Nick.  I mean, realistically, what do we have to look forward to?  We don't make enough to set aside much for retirement.  We've been hurt.  What happens if one of us gets shot?  Or really seriously hurt?"

"It's a dangerous business, we know that."

"And I'm afraid if we do take the jobs, we'll end up with a great retirement plan and be bored to death before we can retire and enjoy it."

Nick chuckled.  "It is tempting, though, isn't it?"

"Very," Cody admitted.  "But it's got to be a unanimous decision.  If you don't want to do this, then we don't do it.  Murray and I don't want to make you miserable."

"The two of you could do it.  You don't need me."

"It doesn't work that way, Nick."  Cody reached out and gave his friend's shoulder a quick squeeze.  "We're in this together, all the way."

"Maybe Murray should--"

"Oh no you don't, Nick Ryder," the computer whiz said, walking up to join the pair.  "Cody's right.  We're in this together.  You can't get rid of me that easy."

Nick grinned, but didn't look at the two men.  "I'm not trying to get rid of you, Murray."

"I know, but still, we're like the-- the three musketeers.  You know, all for one, and one for all."

"You going to have this figured out before tomorrow?" Cody asked before Murray could.

"Yeah," Nick said.  "One way or another."

"Just let us know, okay?" Cody asked.

"Yeah."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ *  ~  * ~ *  ~  * ~ * 

 

The next morning the threesome sat at the galley table, wearing their best dark suits and sipping coffee in strained silence.

Murray finally ventured the unspeakable, "So, what **are** we going to do?"

"Let's vote," Cody said.

Nick nodded his agreement.

Murray took a deep breath and said softly, "Yes.  I vote yes.  It's a dream come true and I feel like I owe it to Baxter."  He looked to Cody.

"I vote yes, too.  The security means a lot to me and I think I can do a good job, something important, at Baxter Industries.  Besides, if I'm the boss I can authorize my own days off every once in a while."  He looked to Nick.

Nick smiled briefly at Cody's last comment.  "Well, this isn't a dream come true for me, even though I thought it might be at first.  I've never had that kind of money.   I mean, we make do, but having a little security, well, that's a new concept for me."     He took a sip of his coffee, then stared into the cup for several seconds before he continued.  "And I'm not sure if I can be a corporate man -- even if I can wear jeans  and a t-shirt.  I don't know if I want the responsibility that'll come with a position as . . .  a boss."

"It's not that different from being an army captain," Murray offered.  "You have a lot of responsibility for men and the choppers with the Guard."

Nick nodded.  "Yeah, it's a lot of responsibility, but it's not the same thing, Boz."  He took another sip, then set his empty cup down.  "I'm still not sure.  I do know this is perfect for Murray."  He looked up at the younger man.  "And that you really want to do this for Baxter."

Murray nodded.

Nick shifted his gaze to Cody.  "And I appreciate the security this'll bring all of us. I mean, you're right about us not getting any younger."

"So?" Cody pressed.  "What is it?"

"I honestly don't know if I can stay with it, but okay.  Yes.  I'll give corporate America a try."

Murray and Cody both whooped, the blond circling Nick's shoulder with an arm and hugging him.  "You won't be sorry," he promised.

"I hope you're right," Nick said.

"And for now we'll just stay right here on the _Riptide_ ," Cody said.

"Absolutely," Murray agreed.

Nick nodded, but it was clear he was skeptical.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  ~ *

 

The ceremony was short and not-so-dignified.  The dancing girls, clowns, poodles and ponies made it a little difficult to remember that it was a funeral and not a traveling circus they were attending.  The minister looked decidedly uncomfortable as he recited the final words to send Baxter Bernard on his way to the afterlife.  Given the huge crowd in attendance, Bax had plenty of good wishes to carry with him.

As the truckload of neon-colored balloons lifted into the sky, the three detectives finally spotted Diane in the multitude.  Cody waved and she waved back, threaded her way through the throng to join them.

"Hi," Murray said, giving her a platonic hug and kiss on the cheek.  "Are you okay?"      

She nodded, her eyes moist.  "It's taken me a couple of days, but I'm doing better now."

"Did you get a video, too?" Cody asked. 

"Yes," she said.  "Baxter said he just couldn't face me while he was dying.  Said it would make him want to hang around longer than he should."  She wiped her eyes with a well-used kleenex.  "So, it looks like we're going to be partners."

Murray nodded.  "Yes, yes it does."

"Then you've decided to take Baxter up on his job offers?" she asked.

"Yes," Cody said.  "That's okay by you, isn't it?"

"Of course," she said, giving the blond a hug.  "He cared about you guys.  In fact, he never stopped talking about you guys, and King Harbor . . . and the _Contessa_."

The detectives and Diane chuckled. 

"He was a real ladies' man," Murray said, envy and awe clear in his voice. 

"So, what do we do now?" Cody asked.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to Dean Taylor, Bax's lawyer.  He's the one with all the paperwork."

 

* ~ * ~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~* 

 

Sitting in Taylor's office, the three detectives shifted uncomfortably in their seats while the lawyer read from Baxter Bernard's will.  They were surprised to discover that Taylor was young, in his thirties, with red hair, green eyes and a Dublin lilt that was sure to impress the ladies.

When the lawyer finished, Nick politely asked, "Can you run that by us again, in English?"

Taylor smiled indulgently.  "Boiled down to its basics, it means that you can either accept the positions offered immediately, or you can postpone actually taking the positions for up to exactly ten years from this date, the year 2000 -- December 31, 2000 to be exact, the new millennium."  He glanced quickly to Diane.  "That is, the detectives can."

She smiled.  "That's all right, I want to start now."

"And if we decide to wait?" Nick asked suspiciously.

"Nothing.  You just wait.  You'll still be sixteen percent stock holders, and you'll still receive a stipend from the company.  You'll be required to attend stockholder meetings and to vote whenever necessary.  Until them Mister Addington will oversee security and R-and-D."

Nick grinned.  "That old fox," he said.  "He knew we'd have a hard time making this decision, but he knew we would."

"He's giving us time to get the beach life out of our systems," Cody added, his voice a mix of awe and sadness.

"Uh, could I still spend some time in the labs?" Murray asked.

Taylor nodded.  "I don't see why not.  I'm sure you could work out an arrangement with the temporary head of research and development, after all, for all intents and purposes, you'll be his boss."

Murray smiled and giggled.  "Yes, I guess I will be."

Cody shifted in his seat to meet Nick's amused gaze.  "So, what do you think?  We spend a few more years helping people . . . until our backs get sore and we're tired of chasing after thugs, then we move into high-tech security?"

Nick nodded, finally feeling good about the arrangement.  "Sounds good to me."

"Great!" Murray summed up, leaning forward and extending his hand to Taylor.  "Then it's a deal."

 

* ~ *~* ~ *~* ~ *~ *~ *~* 

 

"Welcome to Baxter Industries, gentlemen," he said.  "I'm sure you won't be disappointed.  Oh, and I have a signing bonus waiting for each of you."

"Signing bonus?" Murray echoed.

"Yes, twenty-thousand each."

Cody and Nick exchanged startled glances.  They were going to be all right, thanks to Baxter Bernard, may he rest in peace.

 

The End


End file.
